Yule Time Cheer
by Hellcat The Wicked
Summary: Chapter Seven is uploaded. Finally. I'm SO sorry it took so long. Enjoy!
1. Chapter One

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Scott and his Head Elf, Bernard, examine why he's the only elf who ever grew up.   
  
Chapter One:  
  
Scott Calvin, also known in his most recent years as Santa Clause, sat in his office with his Head Elf; Bernard. There was something on the ancient-looking man's mind, and after almost twelve years of life in the North Pole he finally seemed to have developed a sort of kinship with the elf. A kinship that Scott finally felt comfortable enough with to discuss the subject of Bernard's age. Curtis was over nine hundred, yet he still bore the body of a child, after all, and Bernard appeared to be in his early twenties in physicality.  
  
Upon the broaching of this subject, however, Bernard suddenly became very interested in his curly-toed shoes, and – for once – at a loss for words. Scott folded his pudgy arms and arched an eyebrow at the elf from over a gold rimmed spectacle. He told the boy that he'd not meant to strike a nerve, as it were, but in fact was simply seeking an answer to a question that had plagued him for ages. He then proceeded to apologize for his prying and offered Bernard a cup of cocoa in penitence.  
  
"No, it's alright." Said Bernard, smiling and gently refusing the cocoa. "Every Santa asks it at some point."   
  
"Well look, Bernard, if you don't want to talk about it you don't have to." said Scott.  
  
"It's not a big deal." Bernard muttered, shrugging. "All the Head Elves have been grown-ups. Has to do with being able to take charge when Santas – uh…you – isn't around."  
  
Scott nodded, accepting this answer and together the friends left his office bound for the workshop. There was only fifty more days until Christmas, after all. Unbeknownst to Scott "Santa Clause" Calvin, however, there was more to what Bernard had said than he was willing to reveal.  
  
No one talked about Bernard's age, nor anything about the Head Elf save for the way he'd been wearing his stress, for months. It was indeed not until the following year, only a few weeks after Halloween and the beginning of the Holiday Rush that talk of the Head Elf and his ways was raised. He'd been taking frequent trips out on one of the jet packs, and not returning for the entire of the night. Santa himself was the only one in the North Pole who knew what the curly-haired boy was up to, and he would answer no questions about it.  
  
Diana – a dark haired, dark eyed elf in the Wrapping Department – thought that Bernard was (for whatever reason) learning French. Chloe – an uppity she-elf in the Miniatures Department – had a slightly more plausible situation, however. She was certain that her boss was on errand for Santa himself; checking up on Charlie. Marcus – one of the engineers – often stated that the Number One Elf was looking for a replacement for himself, that he wanted to live a "normal human life." None of them were correct.  
  
Off he flew every night, using a bit of his own Christmas Magic to keep hidden from technology, into the crowded cities. What did he do, but watch the teenagers. The Christmas decorations were already up, yet Thanksgiving had not yet come, and everyone seemed to be obsessing with the holiday. That was how he liked his humans; oblivious and inattentive. They would not notice the lanky, dark haired boy dressed in all velvet. They would not bat an eyelash at his large, pointed ears, as they were carefully hidden under his thick, raven curls. The tips of these unusual appendages, always sticking out of the unkempt mop on his head, were concealed effortlessly under an emerald colored hat.  
  
To the non-believers he was just another shopper.  
  
One particularly cold night, on his monthly visit to New York, Bernard found himself cold and in dire need of a cup of Judy's cocoa. Of course, Judy wasn't there to make him cocoa, so he did the next best thing. He went to Starbucks. This, of course was not a spur of the moment decision. He would have held out for Judy's cocoa back at the North Pole except for one very inconvenient detail.  
  
He was freezing.   
  
His hands, though well preserved in warmer than warm gloves, were starting to get numb from the cold, and he was certain he had no feeling left in his nose. This certainty lead to the inevitable and illogical thought of; "What if my nose fell off?"   
  
Stepping through the doorway to the warm and somewhat trendy coffee house, he found himself at the tail end of a very long line. Intent on getting his hot chocolate before he returned home, he got in line. It was at this moment that he found himself privy to a very…interesting conversation between a young woman and her cellular phone.  
  
"I'm in a Starbucks…across the street from a Gap." She snapped, irritably. His sharp elf's ears picked up the other end of the conversation. A young, masculine voice sighed audibly and stated:  
  
"Cassandra, this is New York City. Be a bit more specific."   
  
The girl on the phone glared at no one in particular and went on to say that she had "no idea in hell" as to her whereabouts, and that only she'd found her way into a Starbucks. The voice on the other end of the phone grew aggravated and told her that she was going to have to do better than that if she wanted a ride home. Finally, agitated and next in line, she pressed the END button, effectively hanging up on the boy, and ordered a half French vanilla, half hazelnut with two creams and four Sweet 'N' Low.  
  
"You shouldn't drink that stuff you know." said the girl behind the counter. "The artificial sweetener I mean. It's wicked bad for you."  
  
"You're a vegetarian, aren't you." stated the girl with the cellular phone.  
  
"…Yes…" said the helpful girl.  
  
"A health-conscious young lady?"   
  
This promised to be quite the scene.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Look, I like my poison sweet and diluted in caffeine. If I wanted to eat healthy I'd be getting a soy lattè like everyone else in this bloody coffee house." Snapped the cellular phone girl. Bernard tried very hard not to laugh. The statement itself was not what made him want to laugh, but in fact the way her voice got steadily more accented the more aggravated she got. By the end of her sentence her voice had transitioned completely into a young British woman's.  
  
A good looking man in his mid-to-late-twenties rushed foreword, obviously the manager, and desperately tried to avoid a scene. He paid for the British girl's coffee, which she seemed to no longer want, and shook his head at the uppity girl behind the counter. Bernard ordered his cocoa quickly, hoping that he would not be lectured about sweets as opposed to health food, but the vegetarian seemed to have lost her will to attempt her nutritional advice on the elf.  
  
He looked around the coffee shop, trying to find a table at which he might enjoy his hot drink in peace, but was hard-pressed to find such a thing. Sighing he noted his friend from the line and approached her table slowly. He wasn't sure if it was the best time to disturb her, but she was the only one with a free seat, and seemed to be taking little notice of her surroundings.  
  
She was bent over a worn notebook scribbling something in its pages. Her hair was pulled into a tight plait at the base of her neck, however some pieces that had obviously been bangs long ago, escaped from her part and hung in her eyes. She had a pair of silver-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose, which had not been there when she'd been in line. They were reading glasses, it seemed.  
  
"Uh, excuse me." he said, clearing his throat. Pale eyes of and indiscernible color met his and he suddenly felt as if he'd trod on the tail of a lion. She arched an eyebrow at him and pulled something from her ear. A headphone; blasting what had to be the darkest, most heartbreakingly morbid song he'd ever heard.  
  
"Yeah?" she asked, then, straitening her posture, she added: "Yes?"  
  
"Do you mind if I sit here?"  
  
She smiled, surprising him with the warmth in the gesture, and nodded.  
  
"Take a seat." She said, pushing one of her shorter pieces of hair out of her face. She looked, for a moment, like she wished to engage him in conversation, but instead her face became unreadable again and she returned to her work. Bernard did not attempt to converse with the girl, but instead studied the comings and goings of Starbucks patrons. Every so often he detected the incessant clicking of her ball-point pen on the table, as she paused in thought.  
  
Finally Bernard's eyes found the clock on the far end of the coffee house wall, and he felt his jaw drop. It would take him the better part of the night to get back to the North Pole. He doubted he'd be home before the elves noticed he was gone, and that worried him. What if they asked him where he went? What if Scott had told someone? No – he reasoned. Scott would never do that. Scott understood what it was like to want to belong. He had a son he hardly ever got to see! Yes, Scott understood Bernard's feelings on the matter. Scott would not say anything.  
  
So caught up in these thoughts was the Number One Elf, that he neglected to note where his cocoa was in reference to Cassandra's notebook. One clumsy swing of the arm knocked the liquid onto the paper, soaking it and smearing the ink.  
  
"Oh-my-god!" exclaimed Cassandra, leaping from her chair. She scooped up the notebook and quickly began blotting at it with a paper napkin. This, however, only made the problem worse, not better.  
  
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" said Bernard, flushing a deep shade of crimson. The pale eyed girl was not listening, but instead looking at the spoiled coupler with a trembling lower lip. She dropped the useless article onto the table and ran out of the restaurant, her breath being drawn in a shallow and choked sort of way. Bernard had made her cry.  
  
That had been four hours ago. He was back in the North Pole, now. He'd flown home not long after his interlude with that strange, sad-eyed girl, and he felt rather bad about making her cry. He had thought her overemotional at first, but that had been before he'd struggled through some of the less-smeared bits and pieces of her notebook. She'd been a writer. That explained her tears. She spent her time writing in the thin, black notebook, and he'd ruined it.  
  
"Is there anything you can do to fix it?" he asked. Santa arched an eyebrow at the notebook and carefully laid it out before him.  
  
"Sure thing." said Scott, smiling.   
  
He pulled a small pouch of crimson velvet with golden embroidery carefully sewn into the fabric from his coat pocket. Opening it, he produced a pinch of golden dust with which he sprinkled upon the notebook. It glowed a moment before the stains and smears disappeared. The worn edges and tears and curls shrank and became no more, leaving it better than new. Indeed it was better than new for it had a collection of pure emotion, told in an eloquent and beautiful way.  
  
"YES! Thank you, Santa!" exclaimed Bernard, excitedly.   
  
"Just out of curiosity, what are you doing with Cassandra's notebook?" asked Scott.  
  
Bernard froze where he sat and blinked nervously at his boss.   
  
"H-How—?" stuttered the elf. That was when he realized it was Santa Clause he spoke to, after all. "Never mind."  
  
"Oh, Bernard?" added Santa, chuckling slightly. "Don't you want to know where she lives?" The Number One Elf blushed and nodded, wishing he was able to become invisible. "And why don't you take Prancer instead of a jet-pack. He'll stay hidden while you do whatever it is you're going to do." Again, Bernard blushed, and nodded his thanks. Scott Calvin smiled and bid his friend goodbye, knowing full well what it was the elf wanted to do with the newly repaired notebook.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Okay, if you tell anyone what you're about to bear witness to, I'll see to it personally that you and Chett fly side by side this year." Said Bernard, eyes narrowed. Prancer, remembering what it had been like to fly with the young reindeer, nodded his head and made a croaking sound of compliance.  
  
Bernard sighed and adjusted his hat. Prancer trotted off to a slightly more wooded area of the Monroe residence, and began rubbing his antlers upon one of the smaller saplings. The Number One Elf felt his palms start to sweat and looked down at the black notebook. He suddenly realized that he had no idea what he was going to say to the young lady. Tossing his courage in the back of his head, he settled for the simple gift-giving spirit, and placed the carefully wrapped notebook into her mailbox. Then he rang the doorbell and disappeared in a puff of silver glitter.  
  
The pale eyed girl stumbled outside, wrapped tightly in a robe with her hair falling in wild waves down her back. It was brown. She looked around quickly, surprised at not finding someone on her doorstep, before her sharp eyes noted the glittering ribbon hanging from her mailbox.  
  
"What the—?" she muttered, peering at the gold and red package. "Aint it a bit early for Christmas?" She unwrapped the package in a cynical, unthinking sort of way, then gasped in either surprise or horror or both. She opened the familiar notebook, reading over the pages she herself had filled. She paled visibly and looked around. By that time, Bernard and Prancer were already on their way back to the North Pole.  
  
"And that's how it happened." said Cassandra, who had just told the entire story of the loosing and finding of her beloved notebook to her younger sister. Francesca – two years the 20 year old's junior – flopped onto the enormous featherbed and flipped through the book. Cassandra had just stepped behind a screen that might have been used in old Broadway dressing rooms, and could not read her sister's face as she had become so used to doing.  
  
"Wow." commented Francesca, reading over the more recent stories. "So, do you think you've got a secret admirer?"  
  
"No, Frankie." said Cassandra's voice.   
  
"Well then, how do you explain the book?"  
  
"Don't know; don't care. It's back and unscathed. That's all that matters."  
  
Francesca picked up a discarded skirt and held it up. It was made of crush velvet and fell to Cassandra's ankles. Francesca – being a full two inches taller than her sister – could not wear the skirt, but she still loved it.  
  
"Can I borrow this?" she asked.  
  
"No." said Cassandra, poking her head from behind the screen. "I was looking for that, give it." Begrudgingly, Francesca handed her sister the coveted skirt, and more shuffling sounds were heard. "How do I look?" asked the eldest Monroe sister, stepping out from behind the screen.  
  
"Stunning. Who's the unlucky boy of this week?" asked Francesca.  
  
"Brian…or was it Ryan. I can't remember which. I'll just call him 'Hun' the whole night."  
  
"You can't do that!" exclaimed Frankie.  
  
"Why not? The Ladies' Man did it."  
  
"He called every girl 'sweet thing'!"  
  
Cassandra paused, and pressed a finger to her chin, as if in thought.  
  
"You're right. Should I call him sweet thing then?" she asked.  
  
"Oh lord here we go." muttered the younger Monroe sister.  
  
End of Chapter One. 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Bernard has his first "date" in who knows how long, Cassandra insists its not a date, Charlie and Vanessa get wet.  
  
Chapter Two:  
  
"Cassandra, please?!" exclaimed Vanessa the third and youngest sister in the Monroe family. Pale eyes flashed in her direction, followed by the inevitable bombardment of dirty socks.  
  
"No." was the monotone reply.  
  
"Please?" said the younger girl, undoing her long, strawberry blonde hair. "Listen, I can't go if you don't go, and Charlie's dad won't let him go unless this dude that works with him goes with us. There's no way you can't go!"  
  
"I'm not going." said Cassandra. "There's no way in the seven circles of hell that I'm going on a double date with your boyfriend's father's work-mate! He's probably some bald, thirty-something year old with a whopping four inches in his pants – if that – wanting to get laid!"   
  
"I've met him." said Vanessa, using her last resort. "He's 22, and not bald. His hair is actually kinda long."   
  
She was telling the truth, to a certain degree. She'd talked to Scott Calvin's work-mate – or rather to Scott Calvin himself, about his work-mate – and seen a picture of him, so on some obscure level she had met him. Of course, that had been a few days ago, and the youngest Monroe sister had no idea that only three or so weeks before the young man in question had ruined and fixed Cassandra's notebook. Vanessa, knowing full well that there was only one way to get her sister to concede, produced a Dunk 'N' Donuts bag from her backpack and placed it gingerly upon her sister's vanity. Right next to the fan.  
  
"I smell muffins." said Cassandra, walking dreamily out of her closet. "Mm…coffee cake; my favorite." She plopped herself down at the vanity and pulled the muffin from the bag, tossing the wax paper with the oh-so-familiar logo onto the floor. She was eating contentedly, while trying to no avail to apply some eyeliner.  
  
"So, will you come?" asked Vanessa.  
  
"Nope." Vanessa stamped her foot on the carpeted floor, then snatched what was left of the muffin from her sister. "GIVE IT BACK!" exclaimed Cassandra.  
  
"Come with me!" was Vanessa's response. The older of the two crossed her arms and glared at she-who-held-her-muffin. She wanted it back; right now. Finally, heaving a great sigh of compliance, she sat down again on her vanity bench and nodded, looking defeated. "Don't look so sad, Cassy. I'll buy you a cin-a-bun!" exclaimed the excited, and triumphed Vanessa.  
  
Looking furious that her love of sweet, cinnamony things had been her downfall, she snatched what was left of the muffin and stuffed it into her mouth. A moment later she muttered:  
  
"It better be a big one."  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Bernard, you've got to go." said Scott.  
  
"Santa, I'm needed here!" exclaimed the Number One elf, looking awkward and annoyed. "I mean, it'll be Christmas in little more than a month, and you're having me take your son to a…what was it again?"  
  
"Snow Ball." said Santa.  
  
"A what?" demanded Bernard.  
  
"A Snow Ball. Charlie's school is throwing a kind of club-like fund-raiser. It's to raise money for…something. His mom got him tickets as an early Christmas present. Four tickets to be exact. The problem is, Neil-the-helpful decided that Charlie was not going without supervision, and Vanessa – Charlie's girlfriend – is bringing her older sister."  
  
"So if Vanessa's sister is going, why do I have to?"  
  
"Because I trust you to keep those two in line." said Santa, smiling. A raised eyebrow from Bernard made the smile melt from Scott's face, and forced him to add: "And because she's made the naughty list three years in a row." Bernard sighed and agreed to go along for the ride, though he dearly wished he had more of a backbone and had just said no.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"You're not wearing that." stated Vanessa. Cassandra looked down at her mini-skirt, high black boots, and black, velvet blouse thinking that she looked very nice. Apparently she was the only one.  
  
"Bugger off. Those prats 'll be 'ere any minute and I dunt 'av anything else to wear." She said, switching to the British version of herself. It had become a sort of habit for the eldest of the Monroe sisters to speak in a British voice when she was irked, fed up, or vexed. No one knew how or why this habit came about, but it certainly made Cassandra's moods easier to track.  
  
"Wear something of mine then." Suggested Vanessa. Usually she knew better than to press her sister, particularly when she gained a British accent, but time was running out and she would not be seen in public with Cassandra dressed as a courtesan. The older of the sisters scrunched up her brow and placed her index finger to her chin, as if in deep thought. It was an exaggerated motion, the kind that actors use on stage to demonstrate consideration, but when Cassandra did it, it only meant one thing.  
  
"No." she said, grinning. It was at this moment that Francesca, the middle sister, called for them to join her in the front hall.  
  
"Cassy, Vanny, your dates are here!" she called. Cassandra narrowed her thickly-lined eyes and stalked toward the front hall, which now housed their 'dates.'  
  
"He is NOT my date!" she snapped, glowering at Francesca.  
  
Bernard felt his stomach lurch when he realized who this 'Cassy' was, and he suddenly had the strong inclination to run. He just hoped she would not remember him and his oh-so-clumsy elbows.  
  
"Hey, Cassandra." said Charlie. "You look nice."  
  
"Stop sucking up, Charlie." said Cassandra, though she did it with a good-natured grin upon her face. She folded her arms, waiting to be introduced to her 'date' but no one seemed to know what to do. Without warning, Vanessa bounced into view and began introducing everyone.  
  
"Cassy, you know Charlie—" she began.  
  
"Yes, we've met. It's been ages, darling. How long? Two, maybe three days?" Cassandra quipped. Vanessa ignored her sister's comments and nudged Charlie to finish where she'd left off.  
  
"This is Bernard…Elfman." said Charlie, smiling. Bernard made a mental note to damage the younger Calvin as soon as the girls were out of sight. Elfman? How very original.   
  
"Charmed I'm sure." said Cassandra, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Uh…Bernard, this is Cassandra Monroe." added Charlie, who seemed – if at all possible – more uncomfortable than he had been a moment ago.  
  
"Well, that was riveting. Come, gentlemen and Van. I'm driving." announced the black-clad girl. Charlie, sensing that her proposal would not have a pleasant outcome, nudged Bernard who used some Elfin Magic to produce a surprise for the girls.  
  
"Actually, you don't have to drive." Said Bernard, gathering his courage. He clasped his hands together, hiding the faint glow his palms had adapted, and gestured for Charlie to open the door. The Calvin boy complied, and to everyone's surprise a white, stretched limo sat parked in front of Monroe Manor.  
  
"Oh wow!" exclaimed Vanessa, eyes wide with wonder. Cassandra tried not to show her surprise, but failed miserably.   
  
"Impressive." She stated, trying to sound bored and uninterested. "Very unexpected." She slipped on a black, leather duster to keep out the cold and grabbed a purse from Francesca, who was smirking. Two of the three Monroe sisters headed toward the lovely car, leaving Bernard and Charlie to bring up the rear.  
  
"So, whachya think?" asked Charlie.  
  
"I think I need a new job." muttered Bernard, shaking his head.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Santa, I'm not sure that sending Bernard was such a good idea." commented Curtis, looking slightly worried.  
  
"Why's that, Number Two?" asked Scott.  
  
Curtis sighed and began explaining that the last time Bernard had been on anything resembling a date had been when men wore powdered wigs and women wore hoops in their skirts. Suddenly the child-like elf paused and peered in the direction of the Christmas Crystal. It was used to look in on anyone and everyone all over the world – a wedding gift to the new Mister and Misses Clause, from Father Time.   
  
That was when it occurred to Curtis that Santa and Misses Clause were long due for a quiet night alone. The wheels in his head began turning and with a sort of abruptness Curtis announced that he'd changed his mind about the ordeal. Ten or twenty minutes later, Santa left his office, headed toward the East Wing, where Misses Clause had prepared a special private dinner.  
  
"Never mind, Santa. This promises to be endlessly entertaining." Curtis muttered under his breath, dreaming of all the blackmail he would lay upon Bernard's head once the Number One Elf got home. Endlessly entertaining indeed.  
  
~ * ~  
  
Cassandra adjusted the foam plugs in her ears, to keep out the loud, happy music, and tried vainly to concentrate on her book. It was no use. The music was too cheerful for her to enjoy the works of Edgar Allen Poe. She felt the eyes of her "date" upon her, and sighed. She was bored, and in the presence of the most awkward gentleman she'd ever met.  
  
True, he was rather attractive with his curly mass of hair and endlessly brown eyes, but there was something about him that made her want to head for the hills – as it were. She couldn't pinpoint it, but she knew it had something to do with the glimmer of silver on his cheeks and the rosy hue in his complexion. After all, what kind of boy wore body shimmer?  
  
"Mind if I ditch for a minute? I got a tickle in my boot that needs talking to." she said. Bernard blinked at her, obviously not understanding what she'd said, making her smirk. "My cell's on vibrate and is going off. I'll be right back."  
  
"Oh, okay." He said. She smiled, flipped her hair, and trotted off in the direction of the nearest exit.  
  
"Vas is das?" she said into her phone. A giggle on the other end told her it was Frankie, calling to check up on her.  
  
"How's your date?" asked the girl.  
  
"It's no-ot a date. Charlie and Vanny are having a pleasant time, though I caught them swapping some spit in the hallway a few times. As for Barney and myself…he's not much of a conversationalist." said Cassandra. Again, Francesca giggled.  
  
"Oh well. At least you're breaking in my new boots." She said. "Which – by the way – I want back as soon as you get home."  
  
"You can have 'em. They're driving me crazy!" exclaimed Cassandra. "What possessed you to buy three inch heals?"  
  
"You bought them for me last Christmas, dumb-ass." Cassandra, bored with the conversation with her sister, hung up and returned to the Snow Ball.  
  
Meanwhile, Bernard was equally bored, and decided that a mental check-list of all the things he had to do before Christmas Eve was a more productive way to pass the time than brooding over being stuck with the title of chaperone. So engrossed in the doll-to-action figure ratio was he that he neglected to notice that Cassandra was back from her excursion, with a glint of mischief in her eye.  
  
"I'm 'onna request a song. I'm tired of pop-music." She stated. "Dance with me?"  
  
That last statement got Bernard's attention.  
  
"Its not that I don't want to, but…" He struggled for a way to reject the uppity young girl without hurting her feelings. "I'm not good with rhythm and movement at the same time." he finished. Cassandra showed no sign of being hurt by rejection, but in fact seemed slightly relieved.  
  
"Okay then." She said, smiling. She was off again, this time making her way to the DJ's turntables. A moment later a dark, evil-sounding song thudded from the enormous speakers.  
  
We kiss  
  
The stars  
  
We write  
  
We are  
  
Your name  
  
Desire  
  
Your flesh  
  
We are  
  
Cold we're so cold  
  
We are  
  
So cold we're so cold  
  
We are  
  
Cassandra was now in the middle of a growing circle of gyrating bodies, moving her hips in a most suggestive manner. Every so often a boy would come up behind her, trying to grind his hips against hers, but the moment she realized that there had been an invasion of her personal space, she leaped away from the sweaty bodies and returned to her solo dance. For the first time that night, Bernard noticed that she was having a good time.  
  
Her hair was wild and tangled, flying around her as if on fire, and her face was flushed with excitement. She had an insane grin on her face, as one who had nothing better to do but laugh, and with each pulse of a new verse, this exuberance only increased. Bernard smiled at her excitement and found himself reconsidering her offer to dance. Then he caught himself and rubbed his temples. 'Must be the music.' He thought; then after another moment he added: 'But maybe this wasn't such a waste of time.'  
  
Hours later it was time to say goodnight. The Number One Elf and the eldest Monroe sister sat uncomfortably in the limo, waiting for Charlie and Vanessa to finish saying goodnight. Neither wanted to even fathom what the two were doing to show their affection for one another. Cassandra, not being able to sit still for longer than thirty seconds, began drumming her long, well-manicured fingernails against the tinted windows, while Bernard was back to his mental check-list.  
  
'We're behind on our board games.' He noted, making a silent note to relay this observation to the Gaming Department. Finally, impatient and exhausted, Cassandra hit one of the buttons on the control panel and the moon roof opened with a pleasant buzzing sound.  
  
"Okay you two, I'm getting bored. Put your tongues back in your mouths and nobody gets hurt!" she announced. Bernard snorted, trying to smother a laugh. That was when he noticed that snow fell into the limo, from the moon roof. Cassandra lowered herself into a chair and wiped away a large, wet lump that had lodged itself in her hair.  
  
"Snowball?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Yup." She replied.  
  
Bernard smiled and opened the car door, checking to make sure that the teens didn't play the same trick on him they had on Cassandra. Charlie and Vanessa were simply sitting on the front porch, looking rather amused.  
  
"Its safe." He announced.   
  
"Perhaps…not for them!" she exclaimed. Cassandra leaped from the car, bidding the elf goodnight, and sprinted toward the couple with an armful of snow for each of them. Charlie climbed into the limo moments later, drenched with melting slush.  
  
"That was your own fault, you know." commented Bernard.  
  
"Shut up." said the son of Santa.  
  
End of Chapter Two. 


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Bernard still wants a new job, Cassandra has weird dreams, and someone remembers he can read. This chapter sucks, I'm sorry. Number four will be better…really!  
  
Chapter Three:  
  
Bernard blinked and looked about his room, trying to remember the events of the night before. 'Ah yes,' he thought. 'that…dance thing.' He wondered just how long it would take for him to live down being a chaperone, when Curtis bounded into the Number One Elf's room. Without knocking. Again.  
  
"What is it, Curtis?" demanded the dark haired elf.  
  
"How was your date?" asked Curtis, smiling mischievously. Bernard paled visibly. Yes, the elves knew that he'd chaperoned a date on Santa's behalf, but a date of his own? With a human? Oh dear…what was he to tell them? He suddenly had an idea, though admittedly it was not the most creative one. Denial. If it worked for humans it would (hopefully) work for elves.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." He said, climbing out of his featherbed. Mistake. He'd neglected to slip on his silk pajamas the night before, and now found himself in a less than dignified position. Staring down the Number Two Elf, while wearing boxers. It ought to be an Olympic Event.  
  
"Oh?" said Curtis, batting his eyelashes at his boss.   
  
'Oh no. This is not good.' Thought Bernard. He pulled his robe around his shoulders before returning his attention to the child-like figure before him. He had absolutely no idea what to do. Curtis – it seemed – had been watching the whole thing through the Christmas Crystal. Bernard sighed and crossed his arms, waiting for the inevitable blackmail. He didn't have to wait long.  
  
~ * ~  
  
It had been a long time since he had seen the light of day. Of course, the North Pole didn't get daylight during this time of the year, but even the opaque glow of the Northern Lights hurt his large, black eyes. Who would have thought that after all these years he would still remember what light looked like?  
  
He, like those that had saved him, were cold, filthy and tired. Not for much longer, though. The elves – the fairer folk – might grow and thrive for now, but very soon the watchful eyes of that fat, old man would be plucked from his scull. How many Santas had there been since he'd come to this barren place? He snarled at the cheerful, beautiful town that stretched out before him. Why should he not rule over such a place? Why not over all of the kingdoms? Why not exact revenge…   
  
No, he didn't understand the concept of Christmas, nor did he understand any of the holidays or mythical beings that had become synonymous with such days any more than he understood why these silver-flecked children were brought to this place, while he was sent below. Who would have the answers to his questions? Would Santa? Would Father Time?   
  
He turned his back on this "Christmas Town" and set off toward the surface. Once he remembered how his magic worked, he would find someone to explain all of this to him. That was when he recalled that once, he'd known how to read.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Cassandra, what're you doing?" demanded Francesca, peering at her sister from over a mountain of clothes.  
  
"Trying to find something that doesn't make my ass look big." replied the older girl. She looked herself up and down before tying her hair into a bun at the crown of her head. "No…" she murmured, pulling her hair out of the previously mentioned bun. She preferred her hair down.  
  
"I got that," said Frankie, gesturing to the clothes on the bed. "but why?"  
  
"I have a date."  
  
If the middle Monroe sister could have sweatdropped – a kind of expression used in Japanese cartoons (Anime) to demonstrate sudden frustration – she would have. Instead, she collapsed onto her sister's bed and watched her apply the usual eight ounces of makeup.  
  
"He cute?" she asked after a while.  
  
"Uh…here's a pic." Said Cassandra, handing Francesca an eight by ten. A boy with chestnut hair, peaches and cream skin and frost blue eyes stared back at her. He had the kind of smile that surely broke dozens of hearts every five minutes.  
  
"You don't usually go for the heartbreakers." stated Francesca, eyeing the way her sister took special care while applying lip liner.  
  
"He's sweet. Wants to take me ice skating in the starlight."  
  
"Aw!" exclaimed the middle child. "You gonna keep him?"  
  
"Possibly. At least until after Christmas, I think." said Cassandra. Frankie giggled and shook her head at her sister.  
  
"Hey, remember that story you were working on?" asked Francesca.  
  
"Which one?" asked Cassy, peering into her reflection to scatter some glitter over her eyelids.  
  
"The one with the elves and the boogie man and the skeleton." Replied the middle child. Cassandra had to pause a moment and think before she realized just what her sister was talking about.  
  
"That thing I wrote after a particularly disturbing dream?" she asked.  
  
"Dreams suck, don't they?" said Francesca, loosing interest in the conversation. Cassandra arched an eyebrow at her friend and suddenly felt a strong urgency to work on that story. She – for some inane reason – felt like the Snow Ball would make for an engaging addition to the twenty page piece.   
  
She then found herself wondering just how that story had ended.  
  
~ * ~  
  
'I don't wanna do this…' thought Bernard. He'd told Curtis that there was nothing the Head Elf could say that wouldn't sound better coming from his Second in Command, but this only made the child-like being blush and shake his head emphatically.  
  
What was the blackmail that would make the eldest, most powerful elf in the North Pole so uncomfortable that he would have rather gone to a strip club with Charlie – which would have been the embarrassing moment of the millennium – than approach Judy on Curtis' behalf? Admitting that he'd been on a date with a human.  
  
What exactly was he supposed to say? "Hey, Judy, wanna go out to dinner with Curtis?" Bernard rubbed his temples, feeling his stomach twist into knots, and took a seat at the Cocoa Lounge. Judy popped up directly in front of him and gave him his usual. Cocoa made with cream instead of milk, with liquid marshmallow and mini-marshmallows, whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. He was the only one she made the drink for.  
  
"You seem distressed." Stated the dark haired elf, smiling. She always understood everything. He was never going to be able to get his special cocoa again. Damn Curtis!   
  
"Well – uh – I kind of am." he said, watching the whipped cream begin to melt into the drink.  
  
"What's the matter?" asked Judy, looking concerned.  
  
"Well…uh…" What had he planned on saying again? "I have a problem." What was he going to say? "But, I'll be fine." he added quickly. "I'll figure something out."  
  
Judy looked at Bernard with a slightly tilted head, and a curious expression on her face, but she did not inquire further. If she did, it would only annoy her boss, and why do that when he was so peaceful at the moment? The raven-haired elf drained the last of his cocoa, smiled politely and excused himself. He was not at all romantically inclined, and this was just another example of how little he knew about such things.  
  
"I really need a new job…" he muttered, rubbing his temples again.  
  
End of Chapter Three. 


	4. Chapter Four

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Cassandra doesn't fancy boys who wear body shimmer. Bernard has to make a choice. The plot thickens…like pancake batter. Bisquick even! Come, taste my evil pancakes!  
  
Chapter Four:  
  
The ancient book, though perfectly preserved, seemed somewhat worn at the edges. It was a book of all the things that go 'bump' in the night. La Livra de Boogie; The Boogie Book. The creature, shrunken and little more than a walking pillow, read over the book with glowing red eyes. He looked nothing at all like the monster he'd once been. He was the Boogie Man; the most evil of the mythical creatures.  
  
"Mr. Oogie Boogie says there's trouble close at hand. They'd better pay attention now, cause I'm the Boogie Man." He rasped, remembering a long ago song and a long ago foe. Jack Skelington wasn't the Pumpkin King anymore, and who knew where he was. As for Santa, well he was still around jingling his bells and delivering his baubles. He may not be able to exact his revenge on Jack, but Santa…well, that was another matter.  
  
"Sandy Claws…" he hissed, calling forth any and all bugs in the area. Cockroaches, spiders, worms, centipedes, even butterflies all came to him, and built him up to his former glory. Not all of him had fallen into his Boogie Stew, and those who hadn't laid the eggs that would be responsible for the death of Christmas; and all holidays.  
  
~ * ~  
  
'Why was I the only one who grew up…?' he wondered silently. He'd avoided telling Santa his age, or for that matter anything about his personal life, but the question that hadn't bothered him since the early 1400's was starting to nag at his curl-covered brain.   
  
He couldn't remember anything about himself or his past. He couldn't remember a time before Christmas, or for that matter any of the elvish history he'd once been so proud of keeping. He could remember telling the little elvish babies – who appeared from time to time when a new star would rise in the sky – of the elves of the past. How they had always lived under the blanket the Aurora Borealis, eternally young and eternally beautiful. He hadn't told that story in a long time. There hadn't been a baby elf in the North Pole for ages.  
  
Yes, he remembered the story, but he'd long ago forgotten the credence he'd once given it. That was why he flew off every so often, to mingle with humans and their ignorance. They all believed in something, even if it was in nothing at all. They were simple, predictable beings and sometimes he pretended that he too had that humanity that allowed them to have faith. When he looked upon the assured, unwavering eyes of the younger elves, however, his doubt was redoubled. The other elves…they were so certain about their purpose, yet here he was – oldest of them all – and he could take no comfort in faith. He was too old for faith.  
  
He sighed, cleared his thoughts, and made his way toward Santa's office. He and Curtis had been summoned under orders of Mother Nature herself, and he could not keep the woman waiting.  
  
She – it seemed – was there to bring forth tidings of a greatly disastrous nature. It was this disturbing news that brought the Easter Bunny out of his hole, the Pumpkin Queen; Jackie O'Lantern from Halloween Town, the Tooth Fairy from his enchanted dentist's chair, and Father Time from his watchtower.   
  
The news was of the Angel who brought the Light of the Aurora Borealis. She had given up her position. She wanted to be a human again. This meant that someone had to take her place. Unfortunately, only a human girl could fill this position, and was only able to do so by wishing it in the presence of Mother Nature herself. Should a new Light Bringer not be found before the first of the year, the Northern Lights would go out.   
  
Forever.  
  
"So we have to find a new Light Bringer." said the Pumpkin Queen, arching an ebony eyebrow.  
  
"Yes." stated Mother Nature. Bernard felt the colors drain from his face and he exchanged glances with both Santa and Curtis, and sighed.   
  
"I don't understand, what happens if we don't get a new Light Bringer?" asked Scott Calvin.  
  
"Because if we don't find a new Light Bringer, all of the elves – everywhere – will loose their magic." said Bernard. That much about elvish history he could remember.  
  
Scott's eyes widened and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. One look at Mother Nature's stone-hard face told him that Bernard was not only right, but dead right. If the elves lost their magic, they would become human. Humans grew up, stopped believing in Santa, and died.   
  
"Okay, so we find a new Light Bringer." he said. "Anyone in particular you want to nominate, Mother Nature?"   
  
The woman who's skin glittered as if sprinkled by flecks of gold, shook her head. She then disappeared in a blaze of golden leaves, leaving the assembly to their own devices. The Tooth Fairy sighed, said something about a tingle in his back molar – which meant that another child had lost a tooth – and vanished. Jackie O'Lantern adjusted her large, black bat's wings and bowed to her peers.  
  
"I'll keep my ear to the ground, and listen for a wish." She vowed. Santa thanked her, and she disappeared as easily as her predecessor. As for the Easter Bunny and all the rest, they made similar promises and returned to their homes, so that they could busy themselves with their own problems. Of all the mythical beings and spirits of holidays, Santa Clause was the only one who enlisted the help of elves.  
  
"We're on our own, aren't we?" said Curtis.  
  
"You can't blame them, they've all got their own holidays to worry about." said Santa, frowning.   
  
"Yes, but what are we supposed to do?" demanded Bernard, eyes wide. He may have been feeling the weight of his duties, but to have them torn away because of one selfish angel was too much. He may have felt a slight longing to be with people his own age – or people who were physically his age, at the very least – but he did not want to become human. He did not want to loose the only job he'd known for countless years.  
  
"Okay, we need a plan." said Scott. He sipped on his cocoa, deep in thought and without expression, then with some little reluctance he looked the elves before him. "Bernard, I want you to go scouting. You can stay with Laura and Neil."  
  
"But Santa—?" began Curtis, who did not want to have to bear the responsibility that had creased the eldest elf's forehead on more than one occasion.  
  
"If anyone can do this, its Bernard, and you know it, Curtis." stated Santa.  
  
Bernard's face paled for the second time that day. He was torn between two very important jobs, both of which would have unimaginable consequence if not done properly. On the one hand, he had to make sure everything went smoothly for Christmas Eve, otherwise it wouldn't matter if he and his kinsmen had their magic or not. On the other hand, if he did not find a new Light Bringer, as it seemed only he could perform this miracle, he would loose his powers and grow old and die.  
  
He wouldn't be able to continue with that which he loved the most.  
  
He sighed and shook Santa's hand, telling the ancient-looking man that he would not let him down, and went to his room to pack some things. Curtis would take care of everything, though without the flair and style Bernard could, and he trusted the rest of the elves to do as they had always done. The decision was made that none of the other elves would know of the plight until the very last, that way they would not be distracted from their jobs. It was a good plan. Now, all Bernard had to do, was find a new Light Bringer.  
  
Easily done…  
  
…  
  
Right?  
  
~ * ~  
  
Cassandra stormed onto Monroe Manor, eye makeup smeared and face red from crying. She didn't bother talking to her sisters, who were dumbfounded at the sight of the first born so horrifyingly unkempt. She was obviously upset, and it didn't take long for her siblings to realize why. They recognized "the face" instantly, and knowing Cassandra, she'd be taking it pretty hard.  
  
"I've never been dumped in my life!" she screamed, throwing a stuffed bear against the wall. It had been a present for Ryan, for their anniversary.  
  
"Cassy, its not your—"  
  
"Well obviously it is!" screamed the girl. "I mean, he didn't even say why! He could have said why!"   
  
She curled herself into a ball, disregarding all dignity, and cried, too tired to care or even want to care. Her eyes burned from all the crying she had done and had yet to do, and the more she thought about it the more she hurt. She wanted to die. Was she not pretty enough? Was she not a good enough girlfriend? She was never the dumpee, but the dumper, and she wanted to know why.  
  
That had been last night. Now, daylight shown into Cassandra's bedroom, and she lay sprawled on her bed, snoring lightly.  
  
"Cassy, you awake?" called Francesca. The girl with the pale eyes and black nail varnish woke up slowly, feeling as though she'd been hit by a run-away truck.   
  
She hated being so pathetic. Had it only been last night that she'd been dumped by the first boy she'd ever really liked? Cassandra Monroe was wallowing. She hadn't had a good wallow in quite some time, though this much could be read by simply looking at the scattered tissues, chocolate wrappers, and sad movie sleeves.  
  
"What do you want?" she called, arching an eyebrow at the door.  
  
"Charlie's on the phone." Replied the middle Monroe sister.  
  
"And he wants to talk to me?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
Sighing, Cassandra rose and stumbled toward her vanity, where her phone sat. A moment later, Francesca hung up her end of the line, and Sandra muttered a half-asleep hello into the receiver.  
  
"Hey, Sandra." said Charlie.  
  
"What's up?" asked the confused girl.  
  
"I have a proposition for you." he began. Cassandra snorted into the phone and arched an eyebrow at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She was crimson in the eye and white in the cheek. A lovely way to start the day, if one asked her.  
  
"I hope this isn't dirty." She stated.  
  
"…No…" the boy said, blushing. She knew he was blushing. She could practically feel him blush. "Bernard is staying in town for a bit, and I was hoping you would be kind enough to show him around and whatnot."  
  
"Why can't you do it?" she demanded. There was no answer. This made her smirk. "Is this so big sis won't follow you and lil' sis around? How do you plan on getting rid of Frankie?"  
  
"She's not quite as difficult as you are." he replied.  
  
'Go on, Sandra. Its not like you're going to have an overly jammed schedule for the next month or so.' One side of her brain told her. 'Yeah, but showing curly-locks around means I have to get dressed and stop my brooding.' The other part said.   
  
"Okay, Calvin, but I want a big cin-a-bun and an equally large coffee cake muffin for this." she said.   
  
"Fair enough," said Santa's son. Then, he added, after a bit of thought: "And no sex."  
  
"With curly locks?" demanded Cassandra.  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I don't fancy boys who wear body shimmer and funny hats."  
  
"What about that cowboy fetish you had last summer?" he asked. It was Cassandra's turn to blush, and instead of replying she slammed the phone onto the receiver. Vanny had promised she hadn't told a soul about that! She was going to kill Vanessa, then kill Charlie twice. Then, she decided, she would show curly-locks around and perhaps annoy that dratted ex of hers in the process. That would certainly soothe her aching ego.  
  
"Now, on to the task at hand." She stated, running a hand through her hair. "Must get myself pretty and respectable…or at least pretty. I've never been all that respectable, have I?"  
  
End of Chapter Four. 


	5. Chapter Five

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Who's afraid of the new Big Bad? Will Bernard get something pierced? What the hell happened to Cassandra?  
  
Chapter Five:  
  
"Hello, Bernard." stated Cassandra. The elf smiled politely in greeting, and she adjusted her waist-length wool cape, smirking. She wore a pair of black, leather pants, a charcoal-gray sweater, and a messenger bag at her hip. She caught him looking at the way the leather hugged her hips and smirked, before she gestured for him to follow her. Parked in front of the Miller house was a black motorcycle. It had been a feel better present Cassandra gave to herself, in honor of her despicable breakup.  
  
"What's this?" he asked, inclining his head to inspect the vehicle. He knew what it was, of course, but that did not mean that he wanted to ride it.  
  
"Its my baby." she stated, running her fingers over the handlebars. Quickly, she opened what was a compact trunk of some sort, and tossed him a sleek, black helmet.  
  
"Nice." he said, smiling in approval.   
  
She pushed her cape to one side, pulled a an equally slick helmet over her head, and straddled the motorcycle. She looked at him from under her eyelashes and beckoned him onto the bike with her head. He sighed and pulled the helmet on over his thick curls. It was a bit tight with the bulk of his hat underneath it, but he would have to endure the slight discomfort. Wouldn't want Cassandra seeing his ears, after all.  
  
"Okay, ready?" she asked.  
  
"Do you know how to drive one of these things?" was his response.  
  
"To a certain extent." She answered, smirking. Bernard felt his stomach lurch, then all at once she revved the engine loudly and sped away. They were flying at top speed down the street, making plenty of noise all the way. He tightened his grip upon her waist to keep from falling. Her hair whipped him in the face, smelling faintly of roses and vanilla.  
  
"Where are we going?!" he called over the engine.  
  
"To see Santa!" she shouted back.  
  
~ * ~  
  
Bernard felt ridiculous. He was the Head Elf of the North Pole, on a first name basis with Santa "Scott Calvin" Clause, and he was waiting in line for…  
  
"This is stupid." He said. Cassandra ignored him and turned up her tape player so that the music in the headphones was that much louder. Sitting in a false-gold throne surrounded by plastic trees and foam snow was a fat man dressed in a cherry-red Santa suit. His beard was strapped on with an elastic cord and his spectacles were cracked. It look like Santa had was going through a tough financial time to Bernard.   
  
"Sandra!" someone shouted, forcing their way through the crowd of children waiting in line. It was a tall, good-looking boy dressed in all black. He looked perhaps a bit too happy to see the eldest Monroe girl, and judging by the disdain in her gaze, she did not wish to speak to him.  
  
"What is it, Travis?" she asked, though how she heard anything over the blaring rock music coming from her headphones was beyond her elf companion.  
  
"I just heard about you and Ryan." He said, ignoring her tone. She pulled the earphones from their permanent fixture just above her earrings and glared at him.  
  
"Yes, and?" she said, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"I just wanted to offer my condolences." said Travis.  
  
"Great. You've offered and condoled, now go away." snapped Cassandra, turning her back to him.  
  
"Wait, I wanted to ask you something."   
  
"Yes, no and no; in that order!"  
  
Looking defeated, the boy stalked off, leaving Cassandra Monroe and Bernard "Elfman" alone in the crowded line.  
  
"What was that?" he asked.  
  
"He was going to ask: 'Is that you bike out there?' 'Can I ride it?' and 'Wanna go out this weekend?' – in that order." she said, rolling her eyes.   
  
"I take it you've known Travis for a long time?"  
  
"Prat's been after me for ages. Am so bored with the lads right now." she said, reverting to her British alter-ego. Bernard was tempted to point out that he was indeed a 'lad' but did not. Instead, he allowed her to return to her waiting and music-listening. She obviously didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering her, and he would not force her to.   
  
He focused on the voices all around him. Children, most of whom were nice as they could be, were silently listing what they were going to tell "Santa." Teenage girls of every shape and size were wandering aimlessly around the mall, shopping for clothes, jewelry, and boys, and though they all wished for something more, none of them had the desire to become the Light Giver. They didn't even know who she was. Great.  
  
"Cassy, we're next." He said, nudging her. She looked dazed and somewhat outside her mind by the time it was their turn to sit on the false Santa's lap. He still couldn't believe he was doing this.  
  
"Yay!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She rushed right over to the pillow-padded man and sat on his lap gesturing for Bernard to do the same. He sighed and approached, though he would not sit on the man's lap. He didn't know why he was doing as she wished, but he guessed it had more to do with his overwhelming fear of vexing her. She was, after all, his only means of transportation at the moment.. He stood next to 'Santa' and Cassandra, and smiled for the picture, then the two wandered aimlessly through the mall.  
  
"So…why did we do that?" he asked.  
  
"Because it was fun." she said. "Besides, its not Christmas unless I get my picture taken with Santa. You just happened to be with me when I chose to do it."  
  
"Ah ha."  
  
An uncomfortable silence passed between the two, then Cassandra got a brilliant idea.  
  
"I'm bored." she said, turning to her companion. She had her hands clasped behind her back, and was swaying her shoulders as a child would. A naughty child with impishness on the brain.  
  
"What would you like me to do about it?" he asked, uneasily. She chuckled lightly and tossed him something glittery and shiny. Instinctively he seized it and stared down at what he'd caught. It was a crystal cut in the shape of a star.  
  
"Let's go check out some shooting stars." she said, grinning.  
  
They were on her motorcycle and headed north. Neither spoke for the duration of the ride, though conversation would have been difficult in any case as they did not have much in common. Bernard expected her to take him out of the city, but instead, no more than a half hour later, they parked in front of a huge building.   
  
"A museum of natural science-slash-observatory. The closest we're going to get to the stars in New York." she said, leaping off the bike. "Come on, Bernie."  
  
"Bernie—?" he muttered, arching an eyebrow. She smirked and slung her helmet over her shoulder.  
  
"Would you prefer 'curly-locks'?" she asked.  
  
"How about you just call me Bernard; which is my name." He said.   
  
Cassandra walked toward the front door, swaying her hips in a most suggestive manner, and opened the doorway. A tall, thin man dressed in a pair of shabby jeans and a faded, black shirt embraced her then slung his arm around her shoulder to lead her inside. He had white-blonde hair, a young face, and violet eyes. He did not look any older than perhaps 25. Cassandra seemed to know him well.  
  
"Bernard, this is Julian; he's the manager of this place, and lets me hang out and look at the pretty things." said Cassandra. "Julian, this is Bernard Elfman. He'll be following me around for a while."  
  
"Nice to meet you." said Bernard and Julian at the same time.   
  
The three entered the observatory where Julian disappeared into a booth at the far end of the room. The elf and girl took seats in the stadium-style theater and leaned back so that they could get a better look at the ceiling. Thousands of lights came to life over the brilliant, navy blue ceiling. Quasars, nebulas and comets came to life before their eyes, and the longer they sat there the more each tiny light resembled a star.  
  
Julian came on the speakers, telling them that he had to do some filing, and that Cassandra knew how to turn off everything when they were finished; leaving the elf and human unsupervised…in the dark.  
  
Bernard had never seen a brilliance like that, sparkling on command as if they were alive. One look in the Monroe girl's direction made him smirk. She was watching the "sky" with half-opened eyes. She was trapped in her own mind, thinking of worlds beyond the imagination. He knew that because he'd read her stories. He knew her mind better than she knew herself, most likely. Cassandra Monroe, 20 year old college student, with little to no aspirations in life other than to write, was doing what she did best. She was writing. Writing inside her mind.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Welcome to Monroe Manor." said Francesca. She opened the door and bowed so low that her nose touched her knees. Bernard snorted, trying desperately not to laugh at what a comical appearance the girl had, and waited for her to finish her speech. He'd been told to expect such a greeting over the phone, but he hadn't expected it to actually happen.  
  
"Hello, Frankie." He said, adjusting his hunter green barrette.  
  
"Don't interrupt." She snapped, glaring from under her mass of hair. She hadn't yet risen from her deep bow. She had more of a recitation to recount, but Vanessa silenced her.  
  
"Come on in, Bernard. Cassandra's downstairs." she said, winking. Bernard did not want to even think about what was running through the hormonal teen's thoughts. He followed the now-familiar path to Cassandra's room and knocked on the closed door. Music was blasting, so he was not surprised when he received no answer. He was used to barging into her room now, after doing it every day for the past week.   
  
He opened the door, which was conspicuously unlocked, and walked slowly into the bedroom. Cassandra was bent double with a blow dryer positioned at an odd angle above her scalp. There were a dozen or so candles blazing in her fireplace, offering light but not warmth. Yes, she had her own fireplace. Her entire room must have been built especially for her, for the eldest Monroe sister had her own kitchen, living room and washroom. She used the living room as a bedroom, the bedroom for a closet and the kitchen as her own, personal bakery. It was like a small apartment built into the house, really.  
  
"What're you doing?" he asked, bending himself so that he might be eye-length with the girl.  
  
"Making bouncy hair." she replied. "Have a seat, I'll be finished in a minute."  
  
Bernard did not have to wait long. She eventually grew annoyed with her hair, tired of the endless combing and curling to keep it in order, and finally pulled it into a tail at the nap of her neck. She looked at him briefly from under what had to be the longest eyelashes he'd ever seen, then sat herself at her vanity.  
  
"So, curly-locks, what would you like to do today?" she asked, slicking her lips with berry-tinted gloss.  
  
"I don't know." he replied.  
  
"Well, you must have some idea." she pressed. He shrugged, making a devilish glint flash in her eyes. "I know." she murmured. "Lets make mischief."  
  
Bernard, Number One Elf, eldest and most responsible of all the elves, was being asked to make mischief. How ridiculous. About the only thing that was more ridiculous was his reply, which was an emphatic yes. It wasn't as though he had to worry about getting coal in his stocking, after all. Cassandra leaped to her feet, grabbed Bernard by the wrist, and together, the elf and the girl sprinted out of the house.  
  
"Cassy, where're we going?" he shouted over the motor of her 'baby.'  
  
"Hold on, curly-locks!" she shouted, gunning the engine.  
  
'Oh dear…' he thought, before winding his arms around her waist. The two were speeding dangerously fast, headed south, with surprisingly little traffic standing between them and their destination.   
  
"CASSANDRA!" he exclaimed, gasping. He knew where they were going, now. The neon lights and loud music was a bit of a dead giveaway. She screeched to a stop, kicking up slush in the process, and parked the vehicle next to a long line of equally – if not more – impressive motorcycles.  
  
"Well? You agreed to make mischief." She said, steepling her fingers in a devious sort of way. "I'm getting something pierced. You're welcome to join me, or mingle with the bikers."  
  
"I'll get pierced." He said, perhaps a bit too quickly. He had no wish to wander around the pool hall, and risk getting a human disease. Getting hepatitis or some such nonsense would not be a productive way to spend his time. Besides, he still had to figure out how he was going to find a new Light Bringer.  
  
"Cool." she entered the building and began picking through the various studs for the perfect addition to her look.   
  
~ * ~  
  
She hadn't ended up piercing herself. It had been too 80's – or so she'd said. Instead, where there had been creamy flesh on the girl's shoulder, there was now a rose. Bernard had not gotten pierced as he'd originally stated he would. He hadn't planned on piercing or inking any part of his tender, elfin tissue, and she'd known it.   
  
"Let's go get coffee." she said, grinning.  
  
'Elves don't drink coffee.' he thought. Before he could state that he did not drink – nor for that matter even like – coffee he found himself being dragged into a Starbucks. It looked conspicuously like the one in which they had met.   
  
"I'll have a large, caramel-mocha latè, with marshmallow fluff, whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. Bernard, what would you like? Its on me."  
  
"Cocoa, with the same add-ons as hers." He said.   
  
The two got a table and sipped their hot drinks in silence, each probing their minds for something to talk about. Bernard was still in shock after witnessing the ritual humans called "tattooing." He thought it was barbaric. Cassandra, on the other hand, seemed to be deep in thought. Her gaze was fixed upon her elf-companion, making him squirm, and her face was drawn and thoughtful. She sipped her caramel coffee anxiously, and looked at Bernard a moment.  
  
"You ruined my notebook." She pointed out, after a long time. This made the elf jump almost entirely out of his chair, and choke on his cocoa.  
  
"Uh…"  
  
"Were you the one who brought it back…all fixed, too?" she asked. Bernard winced and rubbed his temples, cursing himself for ever leaving the North Pole. "It was you, wasn't it?"  
  
"…Yes…" he said, sighing.  
  
"How'd you do it – fix it I mean?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. He slumped in his chair, and lowered his voice so that only she could hear.  
  
"Magic." he replied, smiling. Cassandra threw her head back in laughter and flicked a sprinkle at the elf playfully.  
  
"Is that so?" she asked. He nodded solemnly, yet at the same time he had an mirthful smile upon his lips. She rolled her eyes and took a long swig of her coffee. She folded her arms, trying to look menacing, but the whipped cream on her nose and caramel on her upper lip made her look quite comical.  
  
Bernard laughed in spite of himself and gestured for her to clean up. Instead she simply dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a paper napkin, dipped her index finger in the gooey drink before her, and smeared the melted marshmallow sauce, whipped cream, and caramel onto the elf's face.  
  
"Now we're even." She said.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"This is bad." stated Curtis. He and Santa peered into the Christmas Crystal, watching the interlude between the Head Elf and the Monroe girl. Coffee, cocoa and giggling. "Looks like a date." scowled Number Two.  
  
"Leave him alone, Curtis." said Scott, smiling at the display. "He's fine. Besides, didn't you think it was endlessly entertaining when he went out with her the first time? And weren't you blackmailing him with similar information?"   
  
Curtis' jaw dropped.  
  
"Er…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortably. Santa chuckled deep in the base of his throat and bade the elf good evening. Curtis stalked out of Santa's office and headed toward the Number One Elf's office. He had to check the production lists before he could turn in.  
  
He pulled out the brass keys Bernard had left him – which went to the Head Elf's office – and raised one to the lock. Once inside, the child-like being began riffling through papers and parchment, searching for the listing of toys verses coal. He found it, with a spider perched contentedly upon the seal. Shuddering – as all elves loath anything that creeps and crawls – he brushed it aside and picked up the roll of parchment. That was when he realized that there were no bugs in the North Pole.  
  
The door slammed shut, and the lights went out, plunging poor Curtis into darkness and fear. He heard evil-sounding laughter and the creeping and crawling of thousands of insects. A burlap bag-like being with black holes for eyes and a flap of fabric for a mouth appeared and growled deep in his fat throat.  
  
"Sandy Claws?" he hissed, poking a snake-like tongue from his mouth.  
  
"N-No…" said Curtis, looking petrified.  
  
"Who?" it croaked.  
  
"C-Curtis." he whimpered. The creature hissed at the child-like elf and smirked.   
  
"What do you want?" asked Curtis, swallowing the lump in his throat. This seemed to amuse the creature, for he cackled darkly, and the insects that surrounded them hissed in hideous hilarity.  
  
"Why how rude of me, you must be ready to flee." it said, turning to the bugs all around them. They crawled toward him and leaped into it's ghastly mouth, making it's sack-like body grow and bulge. "I'm Mr. Oogie Boogie, the new ruler of this place. I can see that you're surprised, judging by the look upon your face. That's okay by me, as I really don't care. I'm the new king – you see – and you aint goin' no where."  
  
The creature roared hysterically and suddenly hundreds of shadow-creatures scurried out of the cracks. They were not insects, but trolls. Each of them were about three feet in stature, with large, bat-like ears and huge, black eyes. They were inky in skin tone and stunk of sulfur and sweat. They were the coal miners.   
  
'We're being attacked!' thought Curtis, terrified. 'Got to hit Elf-Con One!' He stumbled toward Bernard's personal computer to sound the alarm, but before he could press the ON button, he was pulled off his feet by a dozen or so trolls.  
  
"Like I said, and I'll say it again. You aren't going anywhere, my short little friend." snarled Oogie.  
  
~ * ~  
  
Bernard and Cassandra were playing video games. A very productive way to end the day, if you asked anyone in the Monroe Household. Cassandra was whopping the elf in Super Smash Brothers, but Bernard had her beaten in The Legend of Zelda and the Ocarina of Time, as well as Final Fantasy VIII.   
  
"I just kicked your pointy-eared ass!" announced Cassandra, who was playing the Pikachu character. Bernard played the Link character, as he'd done so well with it before. Of course, that had been a different game entirely.  
  
"Not for much longer." said Bernard, pressing his special attack button. As the blonde, pointy-eared Link character powered up his glowing sword, Pikachu let loose with a thunder bolt, destroying the last of Bernard's life points.  
  
"I win." She said, grinning. Bernard smirked and shook his head.  
  
"You're very—" He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. All at once he had the worst headache of his life, and his ears were extremely itchy. He felt like someone had bashed him in the head with a blunt object. Had his ears fallen off? His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell, hard. The last thing he remembered hearing was Cassandra's screams.  
  
She tried to wake him, but was unsuccessful. She tried to arrange his limbs so that he wouldn't have a stiff neck when he woke up, then grabbed her cellular phone from her purse. She had only just dialed the first 1 in 9-1-1 when Bernard's hand rocketed up and grasped her wrist.  
  
"I'm fine." he said, looking at her with glazed eyes.   
  
"What happened?" she asked, looking terrified.  
  
"Something not good…" murmured Bernard. Suddenly, he was unconcerned with Cassandra's presence or the secrecy he was sworn to keep. He pulled a silver orb from around his neck and looked into it. It was a portable Christmas Crystal. He saw nothing.  
  
"What is that?" demanded Cassandra. "What's going on?"  
  
"The worst possible thing." said Bernard, gravely. He rose quickly and grabbed his coat off the overstuffed chair where he'd thrown it. "I have to go."  
  
"No way, curly-locks. Not without giving me some answers." She grabbed his arm, as if to stop him, but was too late. The elf vanished with a brief blast of sparks, taking her with him to God-knows-where.  
  
End of Chapter Five. 


	6. Chapter Six

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Revenge on the ridiculously convenient! I'm sorry to say, I'm kind of stalling with this one. I had a wicked bad time writing it, but 7 will be better. Promise!  
  
Chapter Six:  
  
All at once he felt his heart jump into his throat. He was drained of all his energy, a feeling he had not experienced in quite some time. That was when he heard it. A scream followed by a thud. He caught a glimpse of Cassandra's prone body sprawled upon his carpet, and suddenly that seemed like a good idea. He tried to sit, but couldn't find the energy. Abruptly he felt his knees give and with an unceremonious thump he joined the human on the floor.  
  
She, on the other hand, had never felt more wonderful in her life. She smelled gingerbread, cinnamon, and chocolate, and though she could not move she was not frightened or worried. She felt something press to her lips and instinctively opened her mouth just enough to take it in. She was pleasantly surprised by the feeling of liquid chocolate running down her throat.  
  
'I don't know what's in that happy drink, but I want more…' she thought, dazedly. People were speaking. She could hear them. What they were saying, however, was not quite sinking in.  
  
"…human…"  
  
"…not good…"  
  
"…may die…"  
  
May die?! What?! Why?! What happened to her? Where was she? She tried to open her eyes, but it was as thought that part of her brain had been shut off. All she could do was lay there, still tasting the chocolate, and wondering what the hell had happened.  
  
Bernard regained himself briefly, enough to see that Cassandra was being carried off by a group of his own elf-charges, while he was thrown into bondage. What on Earth was happening? Why were Judy and Quentin looking at him like that? Where was Cassandra being taken? He was about to voice his questions when that all-consuming weakness returned. He was sitting upright, held there by the 7,000 year old twins, Timmy and Tommy when it happened. His eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped where he sat. Unconscious again.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Hello there, doll-face." stated a deep, overly-confident voice. Cassandra tried to open her eyes, but couldn't. She didn't have the strength. What the hell had Bernard done to her? "I didn't know the elf-boy had a mistress."  
  
"…am not…" she muttered, anger being the only discernible emotion she was feeling. "…was not a date…"  
  
She heard laughter in response. Hands groped her body, removing things and putting new things on.   
  
"Satin and lace…how lewd." Said the voice. Red burned her cheeks, but she could do nothing to stop them. What could she do? She didn't have any strength!  
  
"…bastard…" she muttered.  
  
She drew her might against her eyelids, as that was all she could see, and tried to awaken. Why wouldn't her body move? Why couldn't she open her eyes? She growled deep in the base of her throat and flexed her fingers.  
  
'Wait! My fingers are moving!' she thought, excitedly.  
  
"…let…me…go…" she whimpered. It was an angry whimper, mind you, but it was still just a whimper.   
  
Her anger seethed, face paled, and her hands chilled. Her hands were always cold when she got upset. She shivered involuntarily and imagined that she was somewhere else. She was not going to die that day. She was not going to let herself be lost in that horrible place, being gawked at by a creepy man-beast.  
  
Her mind wandered far from her body, taking her physical form and transforming it into something else. She imagined that a pair of wings grew from her shoulder blades, and a radiant light in her eyes. She imagined that she was beautiful for centuries upon centuries, living only to grant the light to the silver-flecked children she'd grown to love.   
  
She saw herself flying gracefully over a frozen world, sending many different colored sparks onto the ice and snow. She fancied herself a being of pure light, and the bringer of the Aurora Borealis. She'd written a story once about the Angel of the North, inspired after an ancient myth, and now she was endowing the magical properties of the entity in herself. She had to escape her comatose body, for Gods knew what horrors were being inflicted upon her. She could not even distinguish one sensation from another, now. Was she being spoken to? No, there was only laughter.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"What happened?" he gasped, leaning forward. Judy frowned and chewed her thumbnail. Her boss was chained against the far end of the wall, not more than a few yards from Curtis and Quentin. They were also bound against the stronghold that had once been Bernard's office.   
  
"Oogie Boogie has taken control of the North Pole." said Judy in a monotone voice. "We tried to stop them, but he somehow got the help of the trolls."   
  
"The trolls? As in the trolls who mine the coal?" asked Bernard.  
  
"Yes…" said Curtis. His face was pale and his eyes dull. He'd been changed, his spirit crushed, and only his dearest friend knew why. Judy had been the first to know his plight, and the first to offer him comfort, but nothing the young cocoa bringer could do or say made any difference to the Number Two Elf. He blamed himself for invasion. If he had been quicker, cleverer, or stronger none of that would have happened.  
  
"Where's Cassandra?" asked the Head Elf.  
  
"Who?" was Quentin's reply.  
  
"Cassandra Monroe; the human who appeared with me." he said.  
  
None of the younger elves spoke. The young woman who'd appeared with Bernard had been taken off to Oogie Boogie's chamber before any of them could properly heal her. Elfin magic was tricky that way; one minute it could inflict pain, the next it could restore health.  
  
"We're not sure where she went." said Judy, though she was loathed to lie to her supervisor.  
  
"Where is she?" demanded Bernard, eyes narrowing. He knew a falsehood when he heard it. "Judy, where is she?"  
  
"Oogie Boogie took her." said Quentin. The raven haired, sable eyed elf felt his heart seize up and his breath catch in the back of his throat.   
  
Oogie Boogie? The Boogie Man? Trolls? Had Cassandra truly been brought to the creature's chambers? Had the trolls really revolted? Hadn't Oogie Boogie been destroyed centuries ago? Hadn't the old Pumpkin King, Jack Skelington, taken care of that horrible creature?   
  
All of these questions brought his heart to a standstill. When had he lost control of his world? He looked down at the highly-polished chains and sighed. Gilded chains…how dreadfully cliché. Everything was out of control. He hated not being in control. He didn't have the strength to fathom what had happened to Cassandra, nor did he know what would happen to any of his elf-friends.   
  
~ * ~  
  
Where was she now? She wanted to wake up. 'Wake up body!' she thought. 'Get up! Move!' She opened her eyes slowly, her lids lingering in a half-open sort of way, and she began focusing. The room had once been bright and cheery, but had been torn and changed quickly to look dark and dangerous. She wasn't sure how she managed it, but somehow her body was moving, and her eyes were focusing. She looked at her fingers, seeing them bend when she wanted to bend them, and felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards.  
  
She was aware of every cell in her body, which was not in the least an unpleasant sensation. She drank up her new found senses and thanked whatever deities that listened for granting her the strength to awaken. She'd been laid out on a bed of black satin, carved out of black wood. She saw her reflection in a mirror, one made of the self-same black wood her bed was made from and saw what about her had changed.   
  
Her hair had been carefully wound and crimped until it fell half its length from the curl. About her neck was a thick, velvet collar-like necklace – black to match her dress. A raven and scarlet dress, one with bell-sleeves and an uneven hem decorated her frame instead of her familiar apparel she'd come in. She trembled at the memory, the memory of being undressed and gawked at, and cracked her knuckles in preparation. She was going to make that man – whoever he was – pay dearly for humiliating her like that.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"What are we going to do?" Bernard murmured, rhetorically. He would have paced the full length of the room, chewing on his thumbnail and wearing a hole in the rich, beautiful carpet had he not been chained down. He was nervous, afraid, and beyond all of that angry. Angry that he had not been in the North Pole to stop Oogie from succeeding in his invasion.  
  
"We need help." stated Quentin.  
  
"No kidding." Said a new voice. All eyes fell upon a hazel eyed, chestnut haired girl; one with a dark tan, and a heart shaped face. Bernard's eyes lit up, momentarily forgetting where he was, and focusing only on the girl before him. It was Francesca.  
  
"Where'd you come from?!" he exclaimed, eyes wide.  
  
"Ask Charlie, I just came along for the ride." Was her reply. Charlie stepped into view, showing off a toothless grin. Vanessa stood next to him, clutching his hand and looking terrified.  
  
"You – uh – weren't kidding when you said your dad was Santa, were you?" she murmured.   
  
"Nope…" he murmured.  
  
"Charlie, can you get us out of this?" asked Bernard, showing the polished, silver chains.  
  
"No." said Charlie, looking ashamed. "But Francesca can."  
  
"I pick locks." stated the middle Monroe sister, looking proud.  
  
"Hey, Charlie, you said Cassy was here. I don't see her." said Vanessa. Francesca was busy poking at the locks that bound the elves, using a hairpin and a pocket knife.  
  
"We're – uh – not sure exactly where she is." said Quentin. This earned him a poke from Francesca, who looked angry that he'd lied.  
  
"The Boogie man took her." said Judy. She didn't want to be prodded for lying after all.  
  
"What do you mean; the Boogie Man?" demanded Vanessa. Charlie rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and quickly explained the story of mythical beings. Of course, he was not clear on many of the details, but what he did not know Bernard explicated with a sort of condescending, irritated voice. He hated recounting history, especially to humans.  
  
"So, there is a Boogie Man?" said Francesca, when Charlie's story was finished.  
  
"Yes." said Bernard. "And he's taken over the North Pole."  
  
"S'cuse me a minute, I think I need to go faint." stated Vanessa, who promptly collapsed.  
  
"Well that was useful." said Francesca. "And what about Cassandra?! When do we circle the wagons and tend to the wounded? When do we call the cavalry and whatnot?"  
  
"We have to form a plan first." said Bernard.  
  
BOOM!  
  
"I think our little Cassandra has a plan already." said Francesca. "Blow stuff up."  
  
"Somehow, I'm not surprised." murmured Bernard, rubbing his temples.  
  
End of Chapter Six. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Title: Yule Time Cheer  
  
Author: Hellcat  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.  
  
Summary: Lets blow some stuff up, get annoyed with our heroes, and see how far it gets us, shall we?  
  
Chapter Seven:  
  
BOOM!  
  
Cassandra stood over a still-smoking body of Oogie Boogie, looking quite pleased with herself. She hadn't killed him, for that would have required far more hairspray, but she'd managed to misuse the vast aerosol cans marked "flexible hold" and "super hold" in the time it took for Oogie to finish his stupid Boogie Song.  
  
She was now examining her cell, hoping to find some indication of her whereabouts. All she knew was that she was somewhere cold, and sickeningly cheerful-turned-evil. She shook her last can of half-empty hairspray and prayed that there weren't anymore of those odd bag-people lurking around. She doubted "Mrs. S. C." kept a backup supply hidden in her closet.  
  
"Okay, if I were a conniving, velvet-wearing, curly-haired, magic-boy…where would I be." she muttered, irritably. "Gonna throttle that prat when I see 'im."   
  
"CASSANDRA!" someone shouted. She recognized the voice immediately. It was Francesca.  
  
"We know you blew something up! Come and get us!" added Vanessa. Nodding, and smirking, the eldest Monroe sister decided to head in the direction of the voices.  
  
"Just 'ope I'm not 'earing things again." she murmured, shaking her head.   
  
She walked freely through the hallways, making the little black-skinned creatures cower in fear, and shook up the hairspray again. She examined the door that separated her from her shrieking sisters and sighed.  
  
"Get back! Am blowing up the door!" she shouted. She heard scuffling and various objections from a Bernard-sounding voice, before she 'fired up' – as it were – her makeshift flame-thrower. It burst into flames, catching a little easier than she imagined it would, and quickly and efficiently burned itself out. The door lay in ashes before her when she was finished. "And that is why we all should carry Zippos." She stated.  
  
She peered into the room and gasped in surprise at what she saw. Three pointy-eared children cowered behind an equally pointy-eared Bernard, while the two Monroe sisters hid behind Charlie Calvin. Cassandra suddenly felt the need to faint or curse, or perhaps both. Yes, both seemed like a good idea.  
  
"Bollix!" she exclaimed, pointing. "Elves!"  
  
"Uh – yeah, we forgot to warn her about that." said Vanessa, shaking her head.  
  
"How'd you escape?" asked Bernard, rushing forward as if to embrace her. She placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at arms length, and raised her eyebrows at her sisters.  
  
"I'm mad at you, curly-locks. Will deal with you later. Right now, all I wanna know is; what in the name of black lipstick are we doing here?!" she asked.   
  
"We've gotta save Christmas." announced Francesca, puffing out her chest as though she were Wonder Woman or some such nonsense.  
  
"R-i-i-i-ght. Can we take a direct flight back to reality or do we need to make a connection somewhere?"   
  
Hadn't Scott Calvin said something similar to Bernard when he'd first gotten there?  
  
"What happened to the Boogie Man?" asked Curtis, eyes wide. Cassandra looked at the boy-elf before her and smirked. Did she dare tell them? Of course! She was a bad-ass and she wanted everyone to know it.  
  
"He was getting fresh, so…" she paused, cracked her knuckles, and winked at her sisters. "I set him on fire."  
  
"Is he dead?" asked Quentin.  
  
"Don't know. Perhaps. 'Ee wasn't moving when I left…"  
  
"We've got to get to Santa and Mrs. Clause." said Bernard. For the moment he was going to ignore the fact that she was mad at him for no reason, and instead focus on the task at hand.  
  
"How about this. You and the kits can save Santa and Mrs. Clause, and me and mah sisters can take off?" suggested Cassandra, eyes narrowed.  
  
"What? You can't be serious!" exclaimed Charlie. Cassandra shot the Calvin boy an evil glare, but he did not silence himself as he usually did. "We've got to save my dad!"   
  
"Have fun." was Cassandra's response, waving a hand in his direction.  
  
"Cassy, you've got to help us." said Bernard, eyes wide. She arched an eyebrow at him before she slapped him hard across the face.  
  
"Right, because helping people has worked out so well for me in the past?! I helped your curly-haired ass and I got brought to this hell-hole! I helped you guys escape, so I've done my good deed for the day. I'm outa here."  
  
A red hand print began to form on Bernard's cheek, but he ignored it.  
  
"Cassy," he began. "what happened to you?"  
  
"Later." She snapped, and grabbed a poker out of the fireplace. She held it at staff's length in front of her, as though she intended to protect herself from them. Them – her friends! "Come on, Vanny. Frankie." She said.  
  
"We're not going." said Vanessa, crossing her arms.  
  
"They need our help." said Francesca.  
  
"FINE! Then I'll go myself!" screamed Cassandra.   
  
She seethed, fury written all over her face, and she knew in an instant that she was alone. Oh well. Her sisters wanted to help the elf-people and the Son of Santa – it was their choice. No one had been all that concerned for her welfare when she'd been violated by the burlap bag-man, nor did they even ask her how she'd managed to escape! What difference did it make to them? She was the oldest sister. She was the girl with the plan.   
  
She was the one with the wicked clothes, killer makeup, stellar taste in music, and the invulnerable personality. She didn't cry about boys, she made them cry about her! She didn't get mad, she got even! Cassandra Monroe recalled the events of earlier that week, when she'd been dumped. She'd cried that time. Why? She hadn't even really liked him all that much. No more than the other boys she'd dated, at least. It wasn't as though he was the love of her life. Had she gotten soft?   
  
She turned her back on the group and stalked out of the room. She didn't want to look at her sisters' faces, so worried and sad over her behavior. She didn't want to look at Bernard, who seemed to be watching her with a more tender eye than usual. She didn't want to look at the elf-children, with their round eyes and innocent faces. She wanted to go home.  
  
How?  
  
She felt a hand on her shoulder, warm even through the velvet, and without thinking she spun around. Pale, ice-like eyes met deep, chocolate ones. What did he want? It was his fault she'd been brought there to begin with.  
  
"Please, Cassy, help us?" he asked. She scowled, furious with herself. She'd gotten soft all right. Softer than marshmallow fluff after being in the microwave for twenty minutes.  
  
"Fine." she muttered. Marshmallow fluff. Eyes narrowed, face devoid of expression, she agreed to help them. She agreed because she didn't know what else to do.  
  
~ * ~  
  
"Mister Oogie Boogie! What happened to you?" asked one of the Trolls. His name was Spike, if Oogie remembered correctly. He chuckled and examined the charred front of his body. Cassandra had set him on fire.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing at all." he sneered. Was Spike accurate in assuming that Oogie was pleased with his current state? How could that be? He'd been set on fire!  
  
"Pardon my asking, sir," began the Troll. "but should not you be angry with the girl?"  
  
"Not at all, Spike." said Oogie. "You see, I could have easily taken her lighter away, and removed the hairspray from the shelves. I wanted to see what she would do."  
  
"But, sir!" cried Spike. "She's freed the Head Elf and his Second!"  
  
"I know." chuckled Oogie. "I hoped she would."  
  
"Spike is not understanding, sir." said the Troll.  
  
"You wouldn't, would you?" snapped Oogie. "My plan is far too complicated for you to understand."  
  
Of course Oogie had been planning on all of that. In fact, things were going exactly according to ingenious plan. If things progressed, he would not only have his own Boogie Realm, but a Boogie Queen as well.  
  
End of Chapter Seven. 


End file.
